SALT AND ICE
by TheInnocentMage
Summary: Merlin is de-aged by a sorceress, and left as an innocent five-year-old. It's down to the Knights and Arthur to protect him in his younger, vulnerable state. But with interfering Druids, the looming threat of Morgana, and dangerous suppression magic, are they fighting a loosing battle? Merdred Merlin/Mordred
1. PROLOGUE

_Title: __Salt and Ice_

 _Fandom: __BBC Merlin_

 _Rating: __13+_

 _Disclaimer: __BBC Merlin does not belong to me, just this story/fanfiction._

 _Warnings: __Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Blood/Gore later on. . ._

 _Main Pairing:_ _Merlin/Mordred, Merdred_

 _Full Summary:_ _Merlin is de-aged by a sorceress and left as an innocent five-year-old. It's down to the Knights and Arthur to protect him in his younger, vulnerable state. But with interfering Druids, the looming threat of Morgana, and dangerous suppression magic, are they fighting a losing battle? Sick!Merlin, Protective!Mordred. Magic is a gift, not a curse._

 **. . .**

 **Salt and Ice**

 _Winter's Child_

 _Prologue: Regression_

"You have forgotten yourself, Emrys."

"No, I-"

"You have forgotten your purpose, and in doing so, have forgotten yourself. I cannot blame you, Emrys." She sighed, pity lacing in her tone. "There have been those whom have done you too many wrongs, you have lost so much and have too little for show."

The Witch moved forward. The crunch of frost-kissed leaves pronounced with each step. Stopping shortly but holding a fair distance from the young boy, she watched his body tense and winced at the look in his eyes.

May the Gods help her because Emrys holds no trust for her, no belief in his own kin anymore, his own people.

The King of the Druids is wavering in his destiny. The light that once shone in his eyes had been replaced by only vision of death and loss. But things were going to change, they had to change, she was going to fix this hurt her saviour suffered.

"Your pain has blackened your soul and buried your heart so deep you no longer know where to find it. You are not at fault, my lord, but if I do not interfere, we will lose everything we have left. There is someone close, whom you keep too far away."

She raised her hand and saw the flash of gold in her King's eyes. Not that it matters, she was quicker and the spell sparked at her fingertips. The delicious taste in the air lingered from the magic would hopefully attract the attention of the one she sought. She stood solitary as the spell smacked into the boy, sending him flying backwards and straight to the ground.

The night sky was burden by a winter storm, thundering over the trees just outside Camelot's walls. The Witch smiled because the heavens were on her side. Emrys' was created by the Gods after all. With so much noise, only someone magical would know that she and magic-incarnate itself stood here.

Except her smile begun to fade, she was no Druid and she had only heard the prophecies, she had not been taught the depth in those sacred words. It was a secret they kept to their own kind. These worrisome thoughts caused her hesitance as she advanced towards the boy.

In truth she had little knowledge in regards to her King, about the nature of his magic, about his being, she only knew the stories and that saddened her. _How cruel was fate to keep their protector, their God, from them?_

This is one chance the Druids, and her kin, had to free Emrys' heart from the darkness that slowly devoured it. He had lost his ability to trust others, to seek their innocence and bring out the goodness that, at times, only he could see. Emrys has lost faith in himself. And she wasn't the only one to notice. Plagued by warnings of a burnt and ash laden Kingdom, the Seers amongst her people had begun to speak out about their visions. The rumours spread quickly that something was wrong with Emrys, that there was something he was preventing from happening and Fate was waging war in retaliation.

It only took a few convenient circumstances and she had been granted a place as a maid in the royal palace, working in the Kitchens. From there she tried to get close to a being of legends, but he wouldn't let her near, wouldn't give her any more time for her small talk than necessary.

Each day she saw a little more.

The fake smiles and laughter, the dark circles under his eyes, the blankness. Within the first week, she overheard the physician and a Knight discussing Emrys' relentless nightmares. It didn't take long for her to figure out the rest. The hate in his eyes only ever directed at one person. The way he twitched every time that person got to close. He feared the King's death, and he feared the one to be responsible even more so.

 _'Mordred'_. The woman breathed.

She had met the Druid boy, though briefly, when he was younger. Although she thanked the stars that he hadn't recognised her as the passing Witch from the Forest of Balor. Still she remained cautious. He is a formidable opponent and a possibly terrifying enemy. This is one path and one that is being trodden so far. She needed a way to open Emrys' eyes again, to show him that the Druid is not that man yet. But as she has learnt harshly over the last three weeks, her lord has no trust left to give.

Seeing Mordred now, she was proud of what he had become. A Knight. A loyal protector of Camelot, despite the Kingdom's wrongs. The boy had past all his people's expectations and now the Druids had free passage in the land. Even if magic is still banned on penalty of death. Yet, it's something that she would dream of as a little girl. However, she was wise enough to see that destiny had reached a crossroad. A tipping point from which all else could spiral out of control.

Kneeling beside the unconscious boy, the Witch tenderly brushed his hair to the side.

Never having been completely taught the Druid's perceived meanings behind the prophecies, she made her own. And the was something that didn't sit right with her about the image they painted of Mordred.

 _Hope's end?_ Maybe. _Destroyer?_ Never. After all, doesn't hope end when you get what you've been hoping for?

She started to chant.

 _"Converte temporis mutare fortunam innocens esset annorum aetate revertatur."_

A faint glow radiated across the Emrys' body and she heard the sickening crack of bones. She cringed and looked away, glad she had the opportunity to knock him out before performing the spell. Awake, he would be in excruciating pain, the sort that makes a man question his sanity.

From her pocket she pulled out a long cuff metal bracelet, though only of size to fit a child. Seemingly plain on the outside, the inside had been painstaking craved with runes and sigils that could bind a person's magic.

The Witch waited patiently for the spell to take hold completely and in those long moments she prayed not to be discovered just yet. Looking down as the glow receded and then disappeared altogether, she smiled. Firstly, because the spell worked and her magic had not failed her, secondly the child lying in front of her is absolutely adorable. Wild raven hair, pale cute features, no more than five-years-old, and the Witch wagers his eyes will be such a blue it could pierce the soul.

Hastily, she rushed back to the bag she hid before their encounter.

Inside rested a set of child's clothing. A dark blue shirt while the trousers and boots donned black. She got to work quickly redressing the boy and stuffing his adult clothes into her bag. Turning to leave she almost forget the silver bracelet she had discarded on the ground. Carefully, she slipped his hand through and held it around his wrist.

 _"Signaculum."_ She whispered, sealing the metal flush to his skin.

A whimper escaped the child's mouth as his features contorted with pain.

 _'This is for Emrys' protection,'_ the Witch told herself patiently, tempted to take it off _. 'Magic at a young age is practically uncontainable. If he were to be discovered you have every reason to fear the worst.'_ She mouthed it over and over until her lips were numb. The thought of causing her God, her saviour, pain boarder-lined unbearable.

Both spells, the one binding his magic and the one returning his youth could only be undone by her. It was her only security against the flames. If Arthur wanted his friend back, then he would need her alive. The King had come a long way since ascending the throne in breaking the prejudices and abandoning some of the hate imposed upon him from birth, but there was still a way to go.

The people of Camelot and even those closest to Arthur, the Knights, still held much contempt towards magic in their hearts. No wonder Emrys' is in such despair. He had no one to confide in, no one to help nurture his gifts.

Pulling the boy's sleeve back down, she gambled the bracelet would be seen as no more than a bracelet. Arousing as little suspicion as possible.

A shout sounded ahead, and the Witch did all she could to hide her face and cover her smile. The young Knight standing half-concealed by shadows had done well to hide his approach. She hadn't even noticed him till now.

"Get away from the child." He ordered, drawing his sword and stalking closer.

Immediately the Witch lent down, cascading her fingers through the boy's hair once last time and whispered, "Good luck, Emrys. May we meet again when you remember how to forget."

Torn between kissing his forehead goodbye and fleeing, she looked up to meet icy blue eyes. So dangerous they steal colours from the moonlight. The tip of the sword was at her throat in seconds.

"I said," he snarled, "stand back."

In the distance there were yells from city guards, no doubt alerted by the Knight's call. The heavy footsteps and rattle of chain armour echo in the night. As the blade's edge slowly guided the Witch to her feet, she resisted the urge to meet his gaze. Eyes were windows to the soul and if he saw into hers, to learn of her true intentions, then her plan would be nothing but ruin.

Slyly the Witch sneered and added a malicious edge to her words she hoped Sir Mordred would believe.

"Well, well, _well_ , what have we here? You have failed Druid Knight," she teased. "You were too late. Now Camelot will pay the price and Arthur is left vulnerable to attack from Lady Morgana."

A blank expression fell over the Druid's face and he held such indifference as he whispered cruelly to her. "Undo whatever magic you have cast in this city, traitor."

" _Tut, tut, tut_ , you didn't say please." She stressed, not giving the Druid the chance to question her further. For the present her part was over. With new found hope she glanced between the pair and practically sung _, "Tollite me alicubi tutus."_

Bag in hand and heart in her throat, the wind carried her away as dust. With the greatening distance, she all but lost the sound of the Knight's empty threats to the night.

 **. . .**

 _Please review and let me know what you think! x_


	2. Chapter 1

_Title: __Salt and Ice_

 _Fandom: __BBC Merlin_

 _Rating: __13+_

 _Disclaimer: __BBC Merlin does not belong to me, just this story/fanfiction._

 _Warnings: __Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Blood/Gore later on. . ._

 _Main Pairing:_ _Merlin/Mordred, Merdred_

 _Full Summary:_ _Merlin is de-aged by a sorceress and left as an innocent five-year-old. It's down to the Knights and Arthur to protect him in his younger, vulnerable state. But with interfering Druids, the looming threat of Morgana, and dangerous suppression magic, are they fighting a losing battle? Sick!Merlin, Protective!Mordred. Magic is a gift, not a curse._

 _Notes: Thank you to everyone who has favourited or followed! Special thanks to **xx ShamiksXa xx, sannescheltinga, FreyaMyth10, Fai's smile,** and **AxelsFire96** for your support, your comments keep me inspired. To **parimalik,** I'm glad you like the story so far, suppression magic is an idea I've had bouncing around in my head for a while, I just hope I can do it justice :) To **Hope94** , thank you for your support! Dark Mordred breaks my heart, but I'll have to see where this story takes itself :) To **Fitz,** I'm so happy you liked the start to this story, I'm going to try and keep updating as regularly as possible. I thought it would be nice to have a 'villain', who isn't evil for the sake of being evil and my plan is for this to be both Merdred pairing later on, but initially friendship between little!Merlin and Mordred. To **Sachiel Angelo,** thanks for your support, it's so difficult to write Mordred convincingly and hopefully I can keep up to your expectations! :) To **Zephyr of the Mind,** thank you for the first comment, I know it had be difficult to review a new story so I just wanted to say that I'm extremely grateful for the support! :)_

 _I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to check my mistakes. There will be a few, so I apologise beforehand._

 **. . .**

 **Salt and Ice**

 _Chapter 1 ~ Whiter Shade of Pale_

Mordred struggled to contain his breaths. Between the progressively louder shouts from city guards and their nearing footsteps, he was running out of time. _Something was wrong._

The presence of Emrys' magic felt weaker, like a bonfire had dimmed to a candle and then a barely an ember. But, presently, the other warlock was nowhere in his sight. So instead of leaving the boy at the guard's mercy, he chose the latter of his two options. Gathering the small child in his arms and taking shelter under the woodland canopy, Mordred's eyes blazed gold.

His heart flung against his ribcage, desperate to escape his body. His mind raced back to those dark, uncertain moments in his childhood, when the only thing between him and execution were a few and fair standing trees.

Crouching lower, Mordred's hold on the boy tightened as the guards entered the clearing. Their unsheathed swords and armour shone silver in the young moonlight. Mordred's breath caught in his throat. He was all too afraid to be heard. Perhaps he should risk using his magic.

Winter would soon encompass the land, the deathly chill in the air held as a warning of the cold weeks, months to come. The guards didn't look at all too pleased about venturing beyond the City's protective walls. All seemed eager to return as soon as possible.

Cautiously Mordred entered their minds. Rewriting what they heard, only for them to believe the noise to be nothing more than the storm's frivolous wind. He pulled back, choking on the intoxicating allure of his magic as it threatened to take control. Closing his eyes, Mordred sought the minds harboured within Camelot. Each one easy to take over, rewrite, _remake_. He almost lost himself in the vastness of possibility when his thoughts turned to Emrys. An existence that burnt as brightly as the sun yet seemed to have disappeared from his sight.

Mordred searched and searched but reeled back in fear when he was unable to find the incarnation of magic. Shook to the core, he pulled his mind back to reality and unsteadily rebuilt his mental walls.

One by one the guards left in a daze, convinced the commotion had been nothing but figments of their imagination. When he was certain they all had dispersed, Mordred stood and took a better look at the child in his arms.

The boy was incredible light and frail - sickly looking even. But he definitely knew magic, yet it was in such small amounts that it barely registered with his own.

Mordred sighed because now he was in a difficult situation. The boy could either be the Witch's offspring, thou he doubts any mother would leave her child behind, or a child stolen from the Druids. That could become troublesome. Especially with the Druid ambassadors visiting the City next week. He debates how he'd explain harbouring a child of theirs in Camelot. Looking around, Mordred conceded - _he had to tell someone, he needed to trust someone._ And despite the friends he had made, there is no one but Emrys who understand his true nature. Emrys and one other.

Leaning the child into his chest, Mordred took advantage of freeing one arm. Unravelling his clock string, he then tugged the material of the boy's small frame. The wind blew ferociously and Mordred ran while the noise of branches crashing obscured his hasty footsteps. Without further thought, he willed his magic forth and walked in plain sight through Camelot's streets without a single eye seeing him.

In the dark, the young Druid pushed the door to the physician's room open with his foot. The room was doused in shadows, as very little light managed to creep inside.

 _'Emrys_ ,' he called.

Mordred flinched in surprise when his mind slammed straight into a powerful mental block. The shock had him tripping over his feet and falling into the side of a table. Sending a wide array of bottles and glasses crashing to the floor. Mordred winched, caught in the silence before the storm.

"What in all that's sacred!?" A rough voice yelled, followed shortly by the clatter and bang of someone trying to navigate in the dark. "Merlin, I swear if that's you-" The man stopped abruptly in front of Mordred with a curious expression washing over his features. "Ah, Sir Mordred I wasn't expecting you. I wish Merlin would tell him if he's having _company_. . ."

The Druid's face darkened. Because Emrys couldn't even look at him, let alone entertain the idea for an ordinary conversation. Since Mordred has been Knighted, he had only seen hatred in Emrys' eyes, conversations cut short and constant glares sent his way. The crushing thought of knowing the one person he would die for, holds no trust in him, breaks him little by little each day. Shaking his head, Mordred jested to the child in his arms.

"You have me wrong, Gauis, I am here for a different reason." He kept his tone bitter, whatever delusion the old man held he would do well to oppose.

"Who's that?" Gauis arched his eyebrow, drawing closer for a better look.

"I found him outside Camelot's walls," Mordred began. "He had crossed paths with a Witch, however I'm still unsure of her intent. My presence chased her away."

"Quickly, lay him down over here, I'll check for any injuries."

Mordred complied. Now guided by the few candles Gaius had lit, he positioned the boy above the cheap sheets of the spare bed. Leaving the cloak wrapped around his small frame, Mordred gentle brushed the boy's bangs across his forehead. As Gauis approached, Mordred stepped to the side. He watched as the old man took a pulse, checked the boy's temperature, looked over his pale skin and then sighed.

"He has a weak fever, but nothing to be worried about. You may retire, I'll have Merlin help me look after him through the night."

Mordred nodded taking one last glance at the boy and turned on his heels. Deciding in that moment to return in the morning before training to retrieve his cloak. Something told the Druid that Emrys wouldn't be too happy to see him here when Gaius woke him in order to help look after the child.

So, without hesitation, Mordred almost ran from the room, not saying another word and heading straight for his chambers. His inability to reach Emrys' mind had Mordred wondering if the warlock had finally found a way to shut him out - _permanently_.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Morning had been and gone, leaving the castle to settle in the afternoon frost.

One moment Mordred had been peacefully wandering the corridors, gingerly resting the extent of bruises acquired in training earlier. He hadn't gone back to retrieve his cloak just yet, keen to avoid visiting the physician's chamber for as long as possible. Mordred decided a month ago to keep his distance from Emrys. The young warlock had past the point of civil and Mordred was at a loss on how to fix what he doesn't understand is broken.

Half way to the armoury, Emrys' screams crashed over his mind like an ocean storm. It was so loud that the Knight covered his ears on reflex and fell to his knees. He had broadcast so loud, anyone able to hear through magic certainly would have.

After the initial shock, Mordred was on his feet as his mind reached out through the palace for Emrys'. His fingers trembled fearing the worse. Extending his search, the young Knight soon sensed the presence of foreign magic. Powerful and from a source he did not recognise.

Hand on his sword's leather-bound handle, Mordred found himself sprinting to the physician's chamber.

Weaving through the deserted corridors, he found little comfort in the knowledge that Emrys is the most powerful creature to ever walk the earth. As the Druid approached, he could feel the warlock's mind in a deep, unreachable slumber. Different from the night before, he briefly felt Emrys' presence crying out like a wounded animal, restrained and in pain.

Mordred's pace slowed as he heard the rustle of papers. He peered through the half-open door and braced himself at the sound of footsteps. Redirecting his attention to the scene inside, he searched again for Emrys' mind.

 _Absolutely nothing._

Something tightened around Mordred's heart as he stepped into the physician's room, fingers trembling. He widened his search for the threat, for Emrys when his mind brushed against something innocent.

Mordred frowned as he watched a shadow shift abnormally and turned in the direction of its source. Crouched in the corner was a small child who looked no more than five. The boy - _the one from last night_ \- seemed to be pushing further than humanly possible into the wall while tears streamed down his face. The Knight's entrance had not gone unnoticed and upon releasing he had been discovered the child screeched to the high heavens. Immediately, Mordred resheathed his sword and knelt onto one knee.

 _'It's okay. . . little one.'_ He sought a mental link and struggled to form comforting words. _'My name's Mordred, I promise I will not cause you harm.'_ His voice cooed, using the all-too-familiar tone the Druid elders had when he was a child.

The boy tears stopped almost instantly, and his stared with awe-struck eyes at the Knight. Mordred shuffled uneasily and unused to that kind of reaction.

 _'You have magic?'_ A small, innocent voice echoed in his mind. _'You shouldn't, some one gonna see you.'_

He spoke so earnestly, such fear in his tone, that Mordred's heart bled a little.

 _'Mummy said it's a secret. . . Have you seen her?'_

The Knights eyes softened. _'I'm sorry, little one. I do not know where she is.'_ He immediately regretted his honesty when fresh tears collected in the child's summer-blue eyes. _'But it's okay, it's okay.'_ He hushed quickly, panicked. _'I will help you find her.'_

 _'Promise?'_

 _'Promise.'_

The small boy's stiff posture relaxed as he slowly calmed down. He looked around the room curiously, inquisitive eyes absorbing every little detail.

 _'Do you have a name, little one?'_

Mordred questioned, bringing the boy's attention back to him.

 _'I'm not little,'_ he glared stubbornly at the young Knight. _'I'm Merlin.'_

The Druid froze as everything shifted into place. Quickly recalling how Emrys hadn't shown up at the Knight's training to watch him in distrust. How Arthur had been half-hearted complaining that Merlin could possibly be the worst servant in the history of servants. The Witch's words. How Emrys presence seemed to have disappeared over night. _Had he truly been so blind?_

The door swung open causing Mordred to stand on instinct, and to his surprise, had Merlin bolting behind his legs. The young Knight was greeted by the form of a very tired-looking physician. No doubt the man had been up all-night diligently tending to his latest charge.

"Gaius?" He asked as the man stopped abruptly at the sight of him. Instead of responding straight away, he looked around the Knight.

"Sir Mordred, I-" The last reserves of colour leeched from the old man's face as his eyes rested on the tangled mess of sheets on the empty bed. "The boy, where is he? Where did he go?" Gaius raised his voice in panic.

"It is alright." Mordred replied calmly as the physician ran across the room in a frantic search. "He is over here."

Gaius stilled and whirled around, his eyes settling on the Merlin's half-hidden face as he peaked out from behind the Knight's legs. He sighed in relief. "Thank the heavens."

 _'He scares me.'_ Came an innocent little voice in the Knight's head and Mordred failed as he tried to suppress a snigger. The old physician raised an eyebrow again at his peculiar behaviour.

Without wasting a second, Mordred allowed his face to fall blank.

 _'He scares me too, Em-Merlin.'_ The Druid replied, eyes wandering down to the little boy who was giving me a quizzical look. The ruffling of bed sheets had them both looking back to the physician. Whatever question lingered in the child's mind was swiftly forgotten as Gaius finished remaking the bed, then turned to the Druid with a red cloak in hand.

"I suspect you'll be needing this back, Sir Mordred." He nodded respectively as the Knight took the folded material from his worn hands then he turned to Merlin. "Now, let's get you back to bed. Your fever still hasn't gone completely, you need to rest."

Seemingly ignoring the old man's words, the boy's grip on the Knight's trousers tightened as he stared transfixed at the cloak. Just visible was the golden dragon, weaved onto the fabric with care.

Fear, panic, dread, worry, distress, betrayal washed over his young features and crashed through their mental link.

For a moment, the Druid had trouble sorting Merlin's frantic thoughts, all too chaotic to form any coherent sense. Then as the boy backed away from him in terror. . . Mordred finally understood.

 _'Blood. It's coloured with blood.'_ Merlin screamed silently, tears glistening in his blue eyes. _'Liar! Lair! You promised you don't hurt me! You just want to get my blood to paint cloaks!'_

Mordred backed away, fully anticipating the burst of defensive magic surely to explode from Emrys. Tentatively, the Knight readied his own in order to protect Gaius and himself. But then. . . nothing happened. . . aside a few desperate sobs and cries for an absent mother. To say Mordred was surprised would have been an understatement.

When he was such an age, his magic was uncontrollable, _untameable_. Constantly reaching out to protect him whenever he felt afraid. So surely, Emrys with all his might, should be able to do the same? Perhaps not. Mordred left himself very little time to ponder, before laying the cloak over a nearby chair and pacing over to Merlin. Kneeling down again, he swarmed the young boy in a firm hug. It was awkward because Emrys tried to wiggle free and push away. Finally, when he settled, Mordred took his chance to reach for Merlin's mind.

 _'There's no blood here, little one.'_ He promised, standing Merlin in front of him, allowing the small boy a few shaky sniffs. _'I would never cause you pain or hurt or fear. And I won't ever let anyone harm you.'_

The words 'you had been the one constant ray of hope to walk on this earth' goes unsaid, but Mordred kept the truth to his tone.

"Merlin, this is Gaius." He introduced, leaning so the boy could see the physician. "He is one of my friends and he has magic too."

The old man stared bewildered. "Merlin? Our Merlin? When- How?"

"We spoke before. It is him." Mordred replied simply. Merlin had returned to stand behind him, attention having turned to suspiciously eyeing the red cloak. "What will we do? Without Emrys, Camelot is unprotected from her enemies." The knight begged, the threat of Morgana seeming just that bit more deadly in his eyes.

"Pray."

"That is not at all comforting." Mordred replied dryly and waited for the physician to carry on.

The old man sighed tiredly. "It was sorcery that did this, and only sorcery can change him back. Well beyond anything I could achieve." He exhaled defeatedly, before looking to the Druid expectedly.

Mordred shook his head dispelling any hopes the old man might hold. "I know of no spells to undo this kind magic, and the Witch responsible is long gone. I should have done more. I should have been there sooner and stopped her."

"There's no point dwelling in self-pity, we have no choice but to find a way to reverse this until then. . ." He sighed, eyes drifting to Merlin.

The young boy had guardedly approached Mordred's cloak and wrapped his small fingers over the corner of the material. In one motion he pulled it off the chair and stumbled backwards as weight toppled into him. Mordred rushed forward and caught Merlin in his arms before he hit the ground. The boy tilted his head back and smiled sheepishly at him.

". . .We have to look after him." Gaius finished wearily.

"A task easier said than done, I fear." Mordred said, righting Merlin and allowing him to run his fingers over his red cloak.

 _'See? No blood.'_ He whispered softly.

The Druid smiled gently, watching as the young boy nodded, but did not reply with words. Verbally or mentally. Instead, his brow stitched together in confusion.

"The King is holding a meeting at noon, all are to attend, especially the Knights, his words." Mordred explained to the physician. "To be missed on pain of death."

 _'Em-Merlin, I need to leave. But I will be back, can you promise to be good while I am gone?'_

The little boy looked fearful again and shook his head violently in protest. Mordred bit his cheek in thought. Then he brought his hands together. In a rare display, he whispered ancient words and allowed his eyes to blaze gold. Merlin inhaled sharply, watching as a silver butterfly escaped from between the Druid's fingers. Instantly raising one finger to his lips, Mordred fought against smiling at the young warlock's awestruck expression.

 _'This is our secret, Emrys. You cannot tell anyone.'_ He said not realising his mistake. Merlin frowned and nodded eagerly anyway, but narrowed his eyes at physician, who was pretending to rearrange some glass vials.

 _'A secret between Mordred and me?'_

The Druid nodded before looking back to Gaius.

"What will we tell Arthur?" Asked the Knight, his mind racing with all the implications their situation now held.

"Tell me what, Sir Mordred?"

Both men jumped and turned in the direction of the door. Arthur was leant against the wooden frame, arms crossed over his chest and an amused expression lacing his features.

"Care to explain?"

"Sire." Mordred greeted, bowing slightly. Procrastinating on giving an answer to difficult to form in words. The young Knight swallowed thickly.

"I'm waiting." The King arched an eyebrow and Gaius glanced between the two nervously, but his main focus rested on Merlin. The little boy had crouched under the side table and so far, he seemed to have gone unnoticed by Arthur. As the blond stepped further into the physician's room, it was clear he was yet to see the three and a half feet of trouble lurking just out of sight.

"I'm teasing, Mordred." He smiled brightly and trusting. "I'm actually here for that lazy, good-for-nothing servant of mine, have you by chance seen Merlin this morning?"

At that the little warlock perked up, regarding the blond with a dubious stare and then, quick as lightning, rushed from his hiding place to his apparently favourite spot behind Mordred's legs. Whatever Arthur had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He looked questioningly at his youngest Knight.

"Who's this?" He said keeping his tone gentle, but irritation was clear in his eyes.

Mordred took a deep breath, in this situation lying might temporarily mask the issue but, in the end, the problem remained. He felt a pang of annoyance that the physician had decided to stay so conveniently quiet and leave him under the King's scrutiny.

"Sire, there's been an. . . _accident_." He began delicately, realising too late that probably wasn't the right once choice of words. So, he tried again. "Merlin. . . Merlin was attacked by a sorceress. I'm not sure what her intentions were, but the spell she used. . ." He struggled to finish the sentence, watching the colour leach from Arthur's face.

"Where's Merlin? Is he hurt?" The King stepped forward and grabbed Mordred's shoulders roughly. Looking around the workshop, his hold tightened on the tense Druid when he could not immediately see his servant.

"Mordred," he said slowly, dangerously. "Where is Merlin?"

The Knight opened his mouth to reply, but a young voice beat him to chase.

"I'm here. Don't hurt Mordred, don't use his blood as paint."

Arthur frowned and pushed Mordred to the side, revealing that small boy. His eyes widened and breath caught in his throat. "The sorceress did. . . this?"

The Knight nodded in the silence that followed as Merlin and Arthur refused to break the other's gaze.

"Does he remember?"

The King asked, and even though it's an ambiguous question, Mordred managed to shake his head in response. Slowly, Arthur knelt in front of the boy, brow furrowed at the way his small frame shook and sorrowful eyes searched out the Knight for support.

"Merlin, do you know who I am?"

Arthur's words brought the dark-haired child's piercing regard back to him, and now at eye level it seemed that little bit more intense.

"Please don't-" He hiccupped, glancing at the cape hanging from Arthur's shoulders and then sobbed. "Red capes mean flames, I was good- I promise."

Arthur panicked slightly at the outburst before hushing the child.

" _Shhhhh_ , it's okay. Calm down." He half-ordered, half-pleaded.

The boy's wails already giving him a headache. But when Merlin neither stopped nor quietened, Arthur gathered the small boy in his arms and sent Gaius a desperate look.

"Sire, he's quite overwhelmed. Perhaps let Sir Mordred take the boy? He seemed more accepting of his presence."

If Arthur felt upset or disheartened by the statement, he did not let it show. Schooling his features, he carefully placed the boy in his youngest Knight's waiting arms. The King then stepped back and allowed surprise wash over his features as Merlin's cries lessened.

 _'Everything is alright, Merlin.'_ Mordred cooed. _'There is nothing to be afraid of.'_

The Druid blushed as the boy reached out with one hand and clutched his chain-mail. He struggled to believe Emrys was ever this small, this tiny, or this vulnerable. All things from little seeds grow but having met Emrys later on when the warlock was in his teen years, it was difficult for Mordred to see them as one and the same. The little boy in his arms was not Emrys yet, and if they couldn't reverse the spell, he might not be for another sixteen years.

 _'Arthur would not hurt you.'_ He tried to promise, but even now Mordred wondered what actions the King would take if he became aware of Merlin's magic. Emrys looked up at him with adoring eyes, too wide and innocent for the cruelty of this world and sat up a little in the Druid's hold.

 _'Does he know about magic?'_ He asked timidly.

Mordred's heart skipped a beat.

 _'No.'_ He replied perhaps a little too sharply and regretted it immediately when Merlin flinched at his tone, but Mordred knew better than anyone that fear is the necessity of survival. _'He mustn't ever know.'_

Their secret conversation was cut short by Gaius' stern voice. Mordred looked up to see the physician and King deep in discussion. They both glanced up at him and Arthur's lips thinned.

"Sir Mordred, would you mind showing Merlin around the castle?" He questioned.

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

"Of course, Sire." The Druid bowed his head respectfully and left without another word. The little Warlock sniffled but perked up a little at leaving the room. Curiously, he leant forward to get a better look at his changing surroundings.

Arthur walked over to shut the door behind them and Mordred flinched at the sound.

 **. . .**

"Tell me everything." Arthur demanded.

"Late last night, Sir Mordred found him alone. He was in a bad way, so he brought him to me. It was dark and neither of us knew it to be Merlin at the time. He had a high fever and only woke up shortly before you arrived."

"Okay." Arthur nodded, taking in Gaius' words. "And the spell?"

"Powerful, Sire. It has caused a regression in age and suppression of his memories."

The King sighed heavily, running his fingers through his blond hair. "Is there anything that can be done?"

"I'm afraid until I know the spell she cast, there's not much that can be done. Perhaps it's effectiveness will wear off in time, but I can't be certain of anything." Gaius shook his head disheartened.

"So that's it then? Merlin might have to grow up all over again?!" Arthur leant over a table, hands digging into the edges. "I'll have my Knights search the forest for her, she couldn't have gotten far. I'll make her undo this."

"And if not, Sire?"

"Then. . . Then I'll take Merlin in as my ward, permanently. I know Guinevere will have no reservations. Merlin is a dear friend to her."

Gaius nodded in thought. "I hope it doesn't come to that, Sire."

Arthur sighed again, resting his head in his hand. "So do I, but first things first, I'll have to inform my Knights of the situation and tell the court of my new ward."

 **. . .**

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